Out of Line
by shockingblue21
Summary: After Kutner's death, House harasses his adopted parents and his boyfriend, Wilson, objects. Male/Male spanking and orgasm denial.


This fic is a oneshot written for a friend for her birthday. Male/Male spanking and orgasm denial, if it bothers you, don't read.

I own none of these characters.

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He knew as soon as the words left his mouth, that he was in trouble. He shifted around on the sofa, trying not to look at Foreman or Thirteen who hastily muttered their apologizes and traded exasperated glances when they thought he wasn't looking. They would tell Wilson what he'd just said and then he would be screwed. He banged his cane angrily against the floor and shot hostile glances at Kutner's adopted mother, who leaned against her husband for support and shot the same glance back at him. He tried to swallow but his throat felt very dry, all he could manage was another snarky comment. He saw Thirteen's fingers grip the couch tightly, her jaw pressed tight, she glanced around him and mouthed 'we should go' to a tired looking Foreman, not even trying to conceal her frustration this time.

After he left the little house having stolen a handful of the M&Ms placed in a tiny bowl next to the door. He hailed a taxi and headed back to his apartment, forcing the Mexican cab driver to take the long route, around the park and winding through the back streets. When the cab pulled up in front of his building, he thrust a twenty at the driver and hobbled out, slamming the vehicle door behind him. He limped inside and settled in front of the TV, flipping aimlessly through channels and fiddling with his hands as he waited for the doorbell to ring. Thirteen would call, Foreman would explain and Wilson would come over. He always came right over.

House got up and sat himself on a kitchen chair. He flipped through old newspapers and restlessly read the labeling on the cereal boxes strewn across the table. He munched on a few tasteless handfuls and squirmed in his chair, torn between hoping Wilson would just arrive so they could get it over with faster and hoping that for once, James Wilson might have stopped for a drink after work and wouldn't come over after all. He got up and bustled to the refrigerator, busying himself by studying labels and quickly laying out tomato sauce, uncooked pasta and a bowl of partially tossed salad. He would cook dinner. House hated to cook and James always loved it when he made an effort ...

The doorbell rang and House braced himself. He heard James twist his spare key in the lock and push the door open, stumbling over the little barricade of shoes House had left out for him to trip over. He heard him curse and shove the pile aside, closing the door a little harder than was necessary. House gave an involuntary little shiver.

"House?" Wilson called, walking through the living room and towards the kitchen. House considered crutching to his bedroom at turbo speed, but Wilson had long ago figured out how to open the door with an old hanger, and it would only get him into more trouble anyway.

"I ... I'm in the kitchen." He squeaked and hastily threw the pasta into a pan.

Wilson stepped into the kitchen and put his briefcase down on the table. He took off his tie and jacket and laid them on the back of a chair. As he unbuttoned his shirt he glanced up at House, who stirred the pasta nervously and fidgeted from foot to foot. He smiled and raised an eyebrow, "That looks good, you should have texted me and said you were making dinner. I already ordered Chinese."

House bit at his lower lip and turned fully away from Wilson, so James wouldn't see the look of panic that was undoubtedly playing across his face. Ordering Chinese did not bode well. Wilson hated Chinese food and only ordered it as comfort food when House was upset or going to be. He briefly tried to convince himself that he was already upset; Kutner was dead after all. Wilson knew he would miss the little brown boy and had, in preparation, ordered Chinese. He stirred the tomato sauce in slowly and reached for the seasoning. He scattered it into the pasta and slowly began to stir again, trying to ignore Wilson's presence as much as possible, keeping his back to him.

Wilson cleared his throat, "Thirteen called me."

"Backstabbing bitch." House muttered under his breath.

"Greg, how could you say those things to Kutner's parents? You know they're grieving."

House turned around fully and glared at Wilson, "What about me? I'm grieving. I want to understand why he did it; those 'parents' might hold the key."

Wilson stepped up beside him, "I've met them. They were the best possible parents to Kutner and they loved him very much. You shouldn't have gone over there just to make things harder for them."

House deflated as Wilson closed the gap between them. He could practically feel James' eyes boring a hole in his back and he suddenly felt a lot smaller and a lot less brave, he stammered out "I wasn't thinking."

Wilson put his hand on House's shoulder, "No you weren't."

House quivered a bit under Wilson's touch and turned around, "I'm sorry James." He practically whispered.

Wilson nodded and took him by the hand leading him towards the living room. House followed, but dragged his feet a bit and made a show of limping dramatically. Wilson positioned him in a corner at the far side of the room and unfastened his pants. He lowered both House's trousers and underwear to mid thigh and then instructed, "Stand here until I tell you to come out."

House gave a tiny whimper of a acquiescence. He leaned his head against the wall and tried to resist the urge to turn around and see what Wilson was doing. He could hear him opening the drawer until the television and one of his hands snaked back to cover his bare ass, knowing what was in that drawer and feeling hideously exposed. He banged his head a couple of times and then studied the blue and green checkered wallpaper. He heard Wilson close the drawer and move to the couch; he swallowed hard.

"Come here House." Wilson said, settling himself on the couch.

House peered over his shoulder and gulped when he saw Wilson sitting there, the dreaded paddle held deftly in his right hand. His mouth felt very dry, he licked at his lips, "James ... I'm sorry, you don't need to spank me really."

Even as he spoke, House started to edge over, his pants creeping down his legs and pooling at his ankles. When Wilson had decided he needed to be punished, there was no changing his unreasonable, dominating boyfriend's mind. He hesitated in his journey, pausing between the ottoman and the couch, eyes transfixed on the hard wooden paddle in Wilson's hands. Wilson hardly even spanked him with more than his hand and the paddle stung far worse than the slipper.

Wilson tapped the paddle against his palm, "Come on Greg, don't stall."

House sighed and stepped over to Wilson's knees, both hands behind him covering his bottom, "James, please, you don't have. I know I shouldn't have said those things to Kutner's parents ... I'm sorry." He squirmed and looked down at the imposing surface of Wilson's lap, once he bent over he knew the last vestiges of his control would shatter and he would be helpless, forced to submit completely to the stinging punishment Wilson would give him.

Wilson patted his lap, "Over my lap please." He took hold of House's bicep and pulled him downwards; House shut his eyes and just let himself be dragged limply over Wilson's soft thighs. He whimpered when Wilson's hand rested on his ass and mentally kicked himself for sounding so pathetic, so juvenile and vulnerable.

"I'm going to spank you with my hand first and then you will get twenty with the paddle at the end." Wilson informed him, he always described exactly how House would be punished before he started, a small mercy House appreciated because he hated the unpredictable. "Then, I think you will be teased and made to wear the cock cage for the remainder of the evening." House shuddered, he had expected to be teased and denied, but he hated having to wear the cage when he was hard. It chafed his cock and kept him in a painfully frustrating half-hard state. Besides, it was humiliating to have to walk around the apartment wearing it, naked from the waist down with his red ass on display as well.

Wilson lifted his hand away from House's bottom and then brought it back down hard, slapping the cheeks right across the middle, clipping inside the crack and leaving a pink handprint behind. He started to spank in pattern - giving three smacks to each cheek, before lowering his hand and swatting the under-curve of each cheek twice. After two circuits of this, House started to squirm; after three, his legs kicked up and after four he started to twist frantically to get away, tears welling up in his eyes and sliding slowly down his face.

"Stay still Greg." Wilson said, his tone was light and soft but there was no doubt in House's mind that it was a command so he stilled his bucking and moaned, trying to come to grips with the pain in his hindquarters.

Wilson swatted all around his bottom again and House squealed. The punishing hand strayed down to his thighs and House howled at having the extra sensitive skin assaulted. His hand flew back to cover as much of this thighs as he could, try to shield the area from further abuse. Wilson simply sighed and pinned the hand to his lower back, before swatting away at his thighs again. House winced and squirmed, soft sobs and tiny 'ows' coming from his lips.

Wilson picked up the paddle and tapped it twice on the reddened flesh to get House's attention. When he felt the light taps, House let out a loud sob and pleaded, "Please James, don't paddle me, I learned my lesson please."

"No baby I'm sorry you haven't." Wilson said firmly and started to smack crisply with the paddle. He made quick work of it, knowing how much House hated this particular implement. He swatted up and down the cherry red backside, deepening the color further and focusing his attention on the baby soft skin in the joint between buttocks and thigh .

House surrendered himself completely to tears, lying limply over his Dominant's lap and bawling for all he was worth. House didn't have a very good tolerance for pain and his ass felt like he'd sat on the stove. His legs kicked up every time the paddle fell on that vulnerable area and he wrapped his arms around Wilson's legs, crying into the velvet fabric of the couch. Finally, the twenty had been delivered and Wilson put down the paddle and started to soothingly rub the seared flesh. House felt himself be lifted up in strong arms and settled seated on Wilson's lap. He winced as his sore bottom made contact with the hard surface of Wilson's knees, but he needed the comfort so he ignored the throbbing pain in his buns and buried his face in the soft yellow cotton of Wilson's sweater. Wilson wrapped his arms around him and pulled him tightly against his chubby stomach and chest. House sighed into the chest and let himself relax as Wilson gently kissed the top of his head and down his neck.

He was held comfortably for good a ten minutes before Wilson stood him up and led him by the hand into the bedroom. Wilson never put off the second part of the punishment for long and House groaned to himself; this part was almost as bad as the paddling. Wilson gestured for him to lie down on the bed, which House obediently did, laying on his back despite the protests from his ass and waiting as Wilson fished a plastic cock cage out of his sock drawer and sat down to next him.

His hand reached out and started to stroke House's flaccid cock. The organ livened quickly under the soothing ministrations, and Wilson gripped it gently in his palm and circled the member briskly until House got fully hard, "You may not cum." Wilson warned and started to suck on the very tip of House's penis, as House arched his back, his feet grating along the sheets and his cock giving little jumps in Wilson's mouth.

Wilson sucked until he could feel precum start to swell on the head's surface. He rubbed the soft skin of House's balls - hairless, as he'd specified at the start of their relationship - and kissed them very gently. The touch on one of his most erogenous zones made House go into a frenzy and he bucked his cock up into Wilson's mouth, trying to get a stronger contact; the organ bossily demanding to be allowed its release.

Wilson sucked a little more firmly and House pounded his fists on the bed in an effort to keep back the pulsing orgasm. When he felt almost ready to explode, Wilson reached out and picked up the plastic device, pulling it on to House's penis and locking it firmly around the member, securing it on with a special belt that went around his hips and passed up through his bottom cheeks.

House pouted at Wilson and his cock twitched angrily in its confines. Wilson leaned down and snuggled him in the bed, pulling House's buttocks into his stomach and kissing up and down the back of his boyfriend's neck. House couldn't prevent the little purr that escaped his lips, despite his stinging bottom and very frustrated penis. Wilson's arms wrapped possessively around his body and House gave a little sigh understanding the gesture and comforted by Wilson's claiming of him.

"I'm sorry, really." He offered snuggling deeper into his hold.

"It's okay baby I forgive you and I'm sure you will try harder in the future. I think you should send flowers to Kutner's parents, tomorrow though."

House nodded and Wilson cupped his chin and kissed him passionately as a reward for the easy obedience. House melted into the kiss, parting his lips and letting Wilson invade him without any resistance before cuddling with Wilson's arm and letting his head rest on the strong shoulder.


End file.
